


The One where Sam Joins a Law Firm

by Trash_Queen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Lawyer Sam Winchester, Original Character(s), Rainmaker AU, because i have been watching SO MANY lawyer shows lately, im recycling one of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23616421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_Queen/pseuds/Trash_Queen
Summary: Sam returns to Stanford.He graduates third in his class, passes the bar exam.One week later, Jessica breaks up with him.He moves east.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. The One where Sam Goes East

Dean shows up in the middle of the night, saying _Dad’s on a hunt. He hasn’t been back in weeks._

Sam leaves with him, and they find their dad a few weeks later. A few days after that, they have to say goodbye. They watch stoically as the body burns.

Sam returns to Stanford.

He graduates third in his class, passes the California bar exam.

One week later, Jessica breaks up with him.

He moves east.

The only law firm hiring is Madigan, Tannenbaum, Lochland and Deckler, in Memphis. Colloquially known as four crooks and a copier.

He submits his letter, and later that day, is on the phone with a wheezy old man who calls him in for an interview, which is how he finds himself in a stuffy, smoky office with two men who look like they should be cutting deals for the mob. If the mob gave a shit about Memphis.

They’re five minutes in to whats coming dangerously close to sounding like an admission of malpractice when the man behind the desk- who had been referred to as ‘bruiser’- calls for someone name Corin. A woman with a messy pile of dark hair sticks her head through the door after the fourth or fifth call, frowning.

“What, what the hell is it?”

“This young man,” Bruiser motions to Sam, “Has just moved to Memphis, and is interviewing for a partnership.”

“Good for him,” Corin shrugged. “You need me to step in and interview, you knuckleheads can’t ask questions anymore?”

“He’s got some impressive credentials, already has two cases for us, we think he would be a good fit,” The one sitting in the chair beside Sam said, a man called Marion. “We’re hiring him on a probationary basis. We want you to show him the ropes.”

“Okay,” Corin sighs, rolling her eyes before gesturing for Sam to stand up. “C’mon, I’ll show you the office.”

Sam gets up and leaves Bruiser and Marion with an awkward series of _thank you_ ’s, and follows Corin back out into the sparse, aqua and tarazo hall he had walked down earlier.

“This is the office,” She explained blithely, sweeping her arms out in mock-presentation. “Grab any room of your own, if no one’s in there it’s free. Our law library is in here,” She led him into a break room, the trashcan overflowing and the counter and formica table covered in dried coffee, the wall beside the door they just came through hidden behind a densely occupied bookshelf. The couch that was pushed up underneath a bank of grimy windows was occupied by one of the staff, napping.

“That’s Harold,” Corin explained. “He’s one of our associates who apparently can't nap in his own office. He has narcolepsy, or something. That’s about it. Welcome to the big leagues, man whose name I still don’t know.”

“It’s Sam,” He offered his hand. They shook, exchanging awkward smiles before Corin nodded.

“Sam, Sam- that’s a nice name,” She turned to walk back out to the front of the office. “What’s your last name?”

“Uh, Winchester?” Sam answered, slightly confused.

“ _Uh, Winchester_?” She repeated. “Did you forget your last name?”

“No?”

“Good. Never speak like that in front of a judge,” She pushed the door open, waiting for him to walk out before she followed. “I’m guessing you’re not Irish.”

“No,” He shook his head, angling for more confidence. “Not Irish.”

“Then you’re probably not gonna get your name on the window,” She explained. “I don’t think they could fit it up there, and you’re not Irish.”

“Oh… kay? I wasn't interviewing to be a name partner.”

“Which car is yours?” She turned to look around the parking lot.

“Blue Subaru. Over there,” He pointed to it, following her as she set off through the parking lot. “Are we going somewhere-“

“I thought they said you were smart,” She turned to frown at him. “Bruiser said you have cases, but you don’t have an office, and since you seem like a prepared young man I’m assuming your paperwork is in your car. Is that correct?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s in here,” He opened the trunk, pulling a banker’s box forward and digging through it before retrieving a handful of papers and handing them to her. She didn’t even look through them, frowning instead into the trunk.

“You living out of your car?” She asked.

“No, I’m staying at a motel for right now,” He shook his head.

“The Del Toro, out by the interstate?” Corin leaned back against the car parked next to his.

“Yeah, how did you-“

“I lived out of there when I first moved to Memphis. Ended up leaving and staying at Flora’s, down off ninth and Virginia street,” She nodded toward the road. “Del Toro’s got bed bugs.”

“Great. Thanks,” Sam nodded, glancing to the papers. Corin’s gaze followed his before she looked back up to him.

“You drive to Diamond and I’ll buy you lunch,” She proposed. “It’s downtown. Not too far.”

Sam takes her up on the offer, following her directions until they were sitting across from each other in a sticky plastic booth, waiting on greasy diner food that felt familiar and foreign to all at the same time. Sam watched as she rifled through the cases, sipping listlessly at her glass of sweet tea before she puts them down.

“A will and an insurance case are both good-“ She nods, “The will’s not gonna be too hard, but this Great Benefits case? Straight insurance scam, and these bastards are gonna have a team to blow your skinny ass right outta the water. But, they’re also being sued in twelve other states on similar charges, and their defense is looking weak in the cases that have already gone to trial. My guess is they'll propose a settlement to keep it from going higher than the state circuit and to try and prevent a class action,” She fixed him with a pointed glare. “You got a resume?”

“Yeah,” Sam dug around in his suit pocket- the same cheap suit he had worn cross country, impersonating FBI and trying test cases in college, now trying to be an actual lawyers suit. “Here.”

Corin took it and unfolded it, skimming it before stopping.

“You went to Stanford?” She looked up.

“Yeah. Graduated number three in my class,” He nodded, the spike of pride he felt fizzling out at her expression.

“Mr. Winchester,” She set the paper down and folded her hands on top of it. “Not to sound _too_ , ah, abrasive or judgmental, but- what the fuck are you doing at a third rate firm in a town like Memphis if you graduated number three in your class at _Stanford_?”

“I’m not sure,” He shrugged, looking down to the table. “I got in my car and started driving, and ended up here.”

“The worst town for lawyers to be in!” She laughed. “You’ve jumped in a pond too small for third from the top at Stanford. Why not head somewhere like Chicago, or New York? There are firms up there that would love to hire you.”

She moved the papers as their food was placed in front of them; a BLT with already watery iceberg lettuce for Sam, a plate of chicken fried steak covered in gravy for Corin.

“It just didn’t feel right,” Sam shrugged. “To head up to a big city. Not right now.”

“Well,” Corin said around a bite of steak. “Don’t stick around here too long. This place is like a swamp, or a pit of quicksand- it swallows people up if they stay too long. Or if they’re squirrelly young lawyers from California.”

“I seem squirrelly?” Sam repeated, frowning.

“You’re palms are sweaty and you’ve barely spoken a complete sentence to me since Bruiser called me into his office. And he freaks you out a bit- which is good, he freaks most people out, it helps him win cases,” She shrugged. “Speaking of, you taken the bar yet?”

“Not in Tennessee,” Sam shook his head. “In California, and I can take a multi-state exam-“

“Just take it in Tennessee, let Bruiser know and he can file motions on your behalf until you’re sworn in,” She waved the concern away. “You’ll also probably be pulled in on some public defense cases. They’re probably gonna be B&E’s, domestic violence, vehicular manslaughter, grand theft auto, that sort of thing. Think you can handle it?”

“Yeah, uh- you seem a lot more on top of this than Bruiser and Marion,” Sam shrugged.

“I know,” Corin nodded understandingly. “They built a great firm, but you’re smarter than probably eighty percent of the guys in there. Book smart, I mean. The guys in there have a lot more experience than you do- hell, _I_ have more experience than you do.”

“What kind of law do you practice? You never said,” Sam asked.

“I technically don’t,” She shrugged. “I failed the bar, so I mostly help around the office. Research, grabbing cases, that sort of thing.”

“So you’re a clerk?”

“No, I’m a lawyer who failed the bar exam. Five times,” She added as an afterthought. “Sometimes I file motions on peoples behalf, I’ve opened a few arguments when Bruiser was late.”

“And the judges here let you do that?”

“Not knowingly, but there are so many lawyers crawling around this town they can’t tell us apart. If you talk smart they’ve got no idea you haven’t passed the bar,” She waved the concern away. “They explain the pay scale to you?”

A long conversation about ambulance chasing later, and Sam is leaving Del Toro’s and checking into Flora’s, settling onto the stiff mattress and reading over the Great Benefits case and the preliminary will. He files to bring Great Benefit to court the next week, after following Corin around the hospital, trying to dig up accident cases. He apartment hunts, finds a one-roomer above the garage of the sweet old lady whose will he helped finalize. He eats cheap diner food, he wonders vaguely, in the back of his head, if he should still be keeping a six shooter under his pillow, or if he should be investigating the strange reports in the papers or on the radio.


	2. The One where Dean Gets Arrested

The whole thing is blown out of the water a month later; he’s passed the bar, was sworn in by a dying, apoplectic lawyer and vouched for by Great Benefit’s head of legal council, of all people. But he’s in, in Tennessee. A month later, after his clients decided to settle with Great Benefit and in the middle of filtering through personal injury suits, Corin drops into the chair on the other side of his desk; ‘desk’ being a loose term for the formica table in the break room that Sam had been allowed to set up shop in, despite Bruiser’s protests that he find an empty office.

“Public defenders office just sent this down the pipeline. You’re the pro bono rep for… Robert Plant?” She frowned at the paper. “Either this is a _really_ dumb alias or Zepplin is missing a lead singer. And he’s been busy- grave and corpse desecration, and three B&E’s in town. Hey, you okay?”

Sam’s sure all the blood has drained out of his face. _Robert Plant_. One of Dean’s favorite aliases. And, Corin was right, a stupid one. He recovered quickly, picking up the file she tossed toward him and opening it, figuring he might as well get the shock of seeing Dean’s mugshot over. Bandaids, and all that.

“When do we meet with him?”

“It’s set up for tomorrow at eleven. I’ve got another round at the ER I gotta do, so you’re flying solo. Think you can handle it?”

“Of course,” Sam nods, fixating on the file in front of him and letting _eleven o’clock tomorrow_ hang over him like a sword. Of all the places, of all the people. Sam’s always had rotten luck. He makes a few notes in Dean’s file, highlights a few things and then shoves it aside for Great Benefit. He returns to his apartment that night, and feels oddly, weirdly, profoundly unclean.

He says _hi_ to Corin as they sweep past each other at the office, him grabbing files and her grabbing a carton of leftover Chinese. She stops him long enough to throw another file at him, a supplement to the Plant case- the DA wants to add to the charges. Three murders, the next town over.

“What a goddamn nightmare, but the evidence looks circumstantial, so,” She shrugs before hurrying away.

Sam picks up the files he needs and retreats to his blue Subaru in the parking lot, sitting listlessly in it while he tries to steel himself. Eventually, he checks his watch and sees that it’s 10:30. He pulls out and drives down to the police station, introduces himself as the public defender, and is seated in the interrogation room while they go get him. The dread grows and grows before eventually the bubble bursts, and he feels oddly calm just before they walk Dean in, still full of ridiculous swagger. The cop shoves him down into the seat opposite Sam, and Sam suddenly feels small again, the little brother having to impress Dean with his own fake FBI swagger even though there was no way he could pass for a fed. His suit is still cheap.

The cop handcuffs him to the table, reads him another version of his rights and tells them both they have an hour before retreating to watch on the other side of the two-way mirror Sam is sitting in front of.

“Well well well,” Dean leans as far back in his chair as the handcuffs allow. “Of all the gin joints in all the world, you just had to walk into mine.”

“Shut up,” Sam cuts him off.

“I’m just impressed. Really, Sammy, I am- you’re a real lawyer and everything!” His grin widened, becoming almost shark-like. “Even got the attitude and the cheap suit.”

“You do understand that right now I am the only thing standing between you, _and_ a jail cell for now and death row later,” Sam sighed.

“Death Row is a little much, don’t ya think?”

“A Tennessee jury isn’t going to think so- this is one of the toughest states to get prosecuted in, and the DA is trying to add a triple murder to your charges.” Sam grimaced.

“Well, the triple murder wasn't me, there was another hunter in town handling a nest."

"It doesn't matter if you don't have hard evidence to prove you alibi for the murders," Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "And given the time of the beheadings versus the grave and corpse desecration it looks like you can't get out of one without admitting to the other."

"That seems like a lot. I got any reason to worry about any of that?” Dean shrugged. “I got a bad lawyer or somethin’?”

“I don’t know, because I’m not going to be your lawyer. I’m recusing myself after this meeting, I shouldn’t even _be_ in this meeting-“

“C’mon, Sam, there’s no one else I’d want to go to court for me-“

“You do understand that _doesn’t_ matter, and that you’re not as big a criminal mastermind as you think you are,” Sam interrupted, leaning forward. “I mean, what do you think is going to happen? The police are running your prints now and they'll get _hits_ , Dean- these charges _are_ going to grow, states will file for extradition, they’re not going to away-“

“Unless I’m not here when it goes to trial,” Dean shrugged, the smile reappearing. Sam was momentarily dumbfounded before recovering himself.

“Are you- are you asking me to help you break out of jail?” He hissed, gritting his teeth.

“Out of holding. Holding isn’t jail, Sam, c’mon.”

“No. You’re getting another public defender. Either wiggle out of this or take a plea bargain, I really don’t care,” Sam started to pack his files and notepad back into his bag, shaking his head in disbelief. “But I’m not going to be twisting and tying myself into knots and destroy what I’ve built over your - over how you live your life.”

“You’re not gonna destroy what you’ve built… over how _I_ live my life?” Dean repeated slowly, pursing his lips before going on. “Say, uh- how was Flora’s motel treatin’ you? Or that cute lil' apartment behind the old ladies house? What about the blue Subaru you boosted in Colorado? Do all those gas staton taquitos taste even better in your strip mall lawyer’s office?”

For the second time in ten minutes Sam was scrambling.

“I- I don’t- you _followed me_!?” He felt a headache start to grow in the base of his skull. “How did you know I was even here, did you try and find me!?”

“You don’t even have to try, you’re, like, fifty feet tall dude,” Dean snorted derisively, his shoulders slumping when he saw Sam’s face. “I saw you coming out of Amberjack’s Strip Club.”

“I’ve never even been in Amberjacks,” Sam looked confused.

“No, idiot, _I_ was in Amberjacks and I saw you coming out of the lawyers office across the strip mall.”

“Why the hell were you in Amberjacks?” Sam crossed his arms. “For the case?”

“For the strippers, man!” Dean tried to throw his hands up, the chains around them rattling. “You know, to blow off some steam between crimes.”

“God, don't joke about that. That place is the epicenter of, like, five open homicide cases and a billion STD’s,” He sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, either way, I am STD-free, refrained from stabbing any hookers-“

“Don’t say that in here.”

“-Which is a joke!” Dean quickly amended, peeking around to look at the two-way mirror and the cameras. “I just saw you walking across the parking lot and, I dunno. Wanted to check up on you. I haven’t seen you in ages. Since, y’know-”

The phrase _since dad died_ went unsaid, hanging over them like a specter, a wound still too raw for either of them to be able to touch.

“I’m doing fine.” Sam sighed. “I appreciate it, really, I just- I can’t be your defender, Dean.”

Dean didn’t respond, just nodded slowly and after a moment Sam kept talking.

“Not with this. Not _about_ this. That part of my life is over, Dean, and I can’t- you can’t-“

“I can’t work a case in Memphis? Like, ever again?” Dean shrugged. “Can’t drive through Tennessee? What?”

“No, you can’t get _arrested_ in Memphis! You can’t just see me while you’re coming out of the strip club that shares a parking lot with my law firm and tail me around town!”

“I _shouldn’t_ be able to- you’re losing your mojo kid!” Dean held his hands up again, the chains rattling even more insistently. “You should have seen me on your tail the instant I was there! That ghost I took out, you should’ve been on that!”

“Well, I’ve had five years of not having to watch my back,” Sam shrugged. “And I’m gonna keep up the trend. I’m out, I’m completely out.”

“Okay, cool. So, you’re in when I need you to help find dad but when I need you to help keep me out of jail you’re out?” He could feel Dean’s mood growing surly again. “Because you just, don’t like hunting anymore? Don’t care for it?”

“No, it’s mostly because it’s legally untenable not to mention _incredibly_ stupid for me to represent you in a criminal case since you are not Robert Plant- it’s a stupid alias, by the way, and you’ll probably get sued for identity theft also- and since we’re brothers-“

“No one’s gonna find out-“

“That you’re not Robert Plant!?” Sam’s temper flared. “Everyone knows that, Dean! They have your fingerprints! They have mine, and it’ll only take the little bit of digging that they're already doing for them to find out that we are _related_. Which means you’ll get the other public defender you’re getting now and I’ll get disbarred and probably be sitting next to you in jail!”

“And of course you don’t want to be disbarred,” Dean rolled his eyes. Sam sputtered a moment before sighing, rubbing his hands over his face and taking a breath.

“Look,” Dean kept going, “I’ve always had your back. At least, I think I have. I’ve felt like I have. And, I mean, while I didn’t plan this- I didn’t, no magic, no hoodoo, nothing, this was _pure_ chance- I need my brother to have my back, Sammy.”

Sam sighed before he finished packing his things and standing, looking grimly at Dean.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Plant, but I can’t help you. I’ll get in touch with the public defender’s office, they’ll assign you different legal council.”

He hurried out, not looking back as he went, ignoring Dean shouting after him. He told the cop waiting outside they were done and hurried out of the station, collapsing back into the drivers seat of his car. The grimy feeling that had crawled underneath his skin intensified, the urge to drive the Subaru over a bridge and let it sink into the river and abandon it intensifying as the seconds ticked by.


	3. The One where Corin Learns the Truth

He drove back to the office, stopping just as he was about to pull into a parking spot. He stared at the door to the law office, the small, insignificant office rotting away under its’ own weight that he had stumbled into; that he loved because it was the next step away from hunting, and hated because it was still so close to the grimy motels.He looked to Amberjack’s, the door that Dean peeked through to see his new life, a needle that punctured through a thin veil he had started to take for granted.

Sighing, Sam reversed and drove away, back to his apartment. He parked and grabbed his case files, spending the rest of the day looking through the handful of personal injury cases- broken arms and legs, a car crash, one wrongful termination- avoiding Dan’s case file. He was three quarters of a way through the six pack that had been burning a hole in his fridge, the sun already set when he picked up his phone and dialed Corin. It rang a few times before she picked up, a loud buzzing making him wince before there was a bang that muffled it and she was talking into the receiver.

_“Sam?”_

“Yeah,” He took a swig of beer. “Yeah, Corin, uh- we- _I_ \- have a problem.”

_“What? What kinda problem? A personal injury problem? Did the guys at the station try and interfere with your interview?”_

“No, nothing like that. It’s with the public defense case, De- Plant. The case against Robert Plant.”

_“What’s wrong with it? I thought you wanted a defense case. God, was he too weird? Some guy who pretends to be Robert Plant has gotta be weird, did he try and get handsy or something?”_

“No!” Sam barked. “How could he even- Has that happened-“

_“It’s happened to everyone and it’s not important if it didn’t happen. You need me to call the public defenders office? I’ll need a reason why you can’t take the case-”_

“I can’t take the case because he’s my brother.”

If it wasn’t for the faint buzzing he could still hear in the background he would have thought she had hung up. He waited until she said,

_“He’s your brother?”_

“Yes-“

_“You’re sure?”_

“Jesus Christ, Corin, I only have one brother.” Sam rolled his eyes.

_“My apartment is over Spanky’s garage, down on Oak Street. It’s close to Diamond. Come over, and bring the Plant file.”_

She hung up, leaving Sam sitting incredulously in silence before he downed what remained of his beer, grabbing the rest of the bottles and the file, driving back toward downtown and finding Oak street, driving until he saw the bright neon sign for _SPANKY’S GARAGE: OIL INSPECTION MAINTENANCE_ , blinking on and off in red and blue.

The garage was still open, accounting for the noise he heard on the phone; a small hive of workers running around between the cars that were in the bay. Above the main office was another floor, lights on. He could see Corin’s silhouette as she bustled around inside. Sam parked off to the side, walking up and getting the attention of one of the mechanics and asking where the door to her apartment was. He was pointed to a door around back, set under a porch light that was on its’ last legs. He pushed it open and climbed the narrow stairs to cram himself onto the small, triangular landing and knock. He heard her yell _Just a minute!_ And stumble over some things before the door swung outward, cramming him even further into the corner. He tried to slip back down the stairs before she pulled the door in with an apology, moving to let him in.

Corin stood there in her pajamas, a pair of shorts hidden under a ratty t-shirt with a faded print of Garfield on it; her apartment was a studio, and as ratty as the Flora. The furnishings three decades out of date and covered in a thick snow of files, newspapers, and articles pinned up. A television crammed into the corner was muted, the nightly news flickering in bright cathode-ray images.

“Hey,” She closed the door behind him, stepping around him to shove a tower of bankers boxes aside with her foot and ushering him over to where a futon was pulled out into a living area to compliment the two armchairs that were holding piles of newspapers. She cleared the nearest one off before dropping down onto the futon, leaning over to drag a plate of half-eaten grilled cheese back onto her lap. She took a bite and held it out to Sam as he sat down, putting the beer on the bed between them before tossing the file down too.

“So Robert Plant is your brother?” She chuckled, taking a bottle of beer and twisting the top off before holding out the grilled cheese. He reached over and grabbed one, holding it up in thanks before sighing.

“His name is Dean. He’s my older brother,” Sam explained.

“Did you know he was in town?” She asked, putting the grilled cheese and beer down and leaning back to fumble in an open bedside drawer for a hair tie, pulling her hair up.

“No,” He shook his head. “I found out when you handed me the file.”

“And you took the meeting anyway.”

“It’s not illegal!” Sam shrugged.

“No, but it _is_ ill-advised,” She pointed out. “Even if they weren’t recording, they’ve got video. And they have people watching through those mirrors.”

“I just- I had to go have the conversation with him. It seemed like the right thing to do,” He shrugged again.

“And you _told_ him you can’t represent him,” She leaned forward.

“Yes! After he stopped interrupting me every five minutes,” He sighed. “I told him I couldn’t represent him.”

“Did he confess to anything?”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “But that’s where it gets…”

“Complicated?” Corin finished.

“‘Complicated’ is an understatement,” Sam laughed.

“I can take the case, that’s no problem,” She picked up the file and flipped through it. “You didn’t make many notes.”

“You don’t want to hand it over to any of the other partners?” He asked. “I can take it to Harold. Or I think Adrian had an opening for an extra case.”

“No, Harold’ll just drool all over the bench when he falls asleep and Adrian is too wrapped up in the DeSoto personal injury case- they’re angling for, like, five million in damages,” Corin shook her head. “Let me take over this, and you focus on your injuries cases.”

“Look, Corin, there’s other stuff that-“

“No,” She cut him off with a hand. “Whatever you’re about to tell me, _don’t_. I’ll go to the next meeting; I’ll call and have them reschedule it for a couple of days from now, and check on the extradition orders. Hey,” She leaned forward, fixing him with an earnest look. “We’ll get the charges dropped. Oh, and I need you to meet me at Java’s tomorrow around lunch. It’s important.”

“Why Java’s?”

“Bruiser hates their coffee. And he’s right to, it’s terrible, but Mary makes a _great_ quiche,” Corin flipped another page in the file. “I’ve got something important I want to talk to you about.”

“You can’t tell me here?” Sam gestured around the apartment.

“No,” She shook her head. “I’ll tell you tomorrow. I’ve got a project.”

Sam went home for a fitful night of sleep, rolling out of bed and getting dressed in a haze, driving to work in a similar fog. When he got there, he trudged through the first part of the day in his office, filling out paperwork until Corin popped her head in the door.

“Ready to get lunch?” She asked, jerking her head toward the door.

“Yeah,” Sam got up, grabbing a few files and following her out.

“I’ll drive,” She led them over to her station wagon, sliding into the drivers seat and reaching across to unlock the passenger side.

“I thought we were going to Java’s,” Sam asked as they turned the other way down mainstream. “I was excited about that quiche.”

“You were _not_ ,” Corin snorted. “We’re going to Ellie’s.”

“You lied because…?” Sam started slowly, before answering his own question. “D’you think someone was listening in, back at your apartment?”

“I’ll explain at Ellie’s.”

They parked and hoofed it into the dining room, thanking the waitress as she showed them to a booth in the back and placed two sweating glasses of water in front of them. Corin insisted on them ordering lunch first, calling the waitress back over, and while they waited Sam couldn’t ignore the itch he had been suppressing to talk to Corin about Dean’s case.

“Hey, before we talk about anything else, I gotta tell you something about Dean’s case,” He said, tapping listlessly at the cold ring of water on the table.

“Okay, shoot,” She gestured to him.

“That stuff he was accused of, the breaking and entering and the grave desecration?”

“Yes,” She nodded. “I remember.”

“There’s a good chance that it’s all true.” He sighed, figuring there was no good way around it. “The breaking and entering, the grave excavation and corpse desecration, and whatever Texas, Missouri and Florida are pulling together.”

“Wh- what do you mean, a good chance? It’s either true or not, so is it true, or not?” She frowned. Their food arrived, the two of them waiting until they were left alone so Sam could keep talking.

“It’s true,” Sam ignored his lunch, rubbing at one of his eyes. “My guess would be he was hunting a ghost. Breaking and entering is for some recon, he was probably thinking cursed object for a while since one of the B&E’s was at an antique store. Digging up Paula Schultz was so he could salt and burn the bones.”

Corin had a piece of fried chicken in hand, on its way to her mouth before she froze while Sam talked. She slowly lowered it back to the plate while he explained. The whole _talk_ , for the first time in, well- ever. The line his dad had drummed into him buzzed around in his head- _never talk. This isn’t for other people to know. Never talk._ When he was done, she was still holding the chicken, but her mouth had closed. She gave him a smile before it disappeared, seemingly unsure of how to react. After a while, she sighed.

“Wait, okay,” Corin looked down, scrutinizing her coffee cup. “You’re saying- you mean to tell me, that vampires, ghouls, werewolves, all of that horror movie shit- it’s real?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, feeling slightly sheepish.

“And there are people- you, and our mutual friend Mr. Plant among them-“

“My brother, yes, me- not anymore,” He interrupted, fidgeting.

“Your brother among them,” Corin amended, “Who hunt them.”

“Yes,” Sam nodded again, starting to worry when Corin didn’t do anything except nod contemplatively. Eventually, she quirked her head to the side, rubbing the fingers of her right hand together mindlessly before asking,

“D’you think they need legal council?”

Sam was struck dumb for a moment before shrugging, wide-eyed.

“Uh, I know some of them do-“

“Great,” She leaned under the table to dig into her bag, re-emerging a moment later looking harried, a rumpled section of newspaper in her hand. She laid it on the table, spread it out and pointed to a small article that was printed in the corner. Sam leaned forward and mouthed the words: _Law firm Madigan, Tannenbaum, Lochland and Deckler under federal investigation_. He skimmed it before looking up at Corin.

“What’s this?”

“What does it look like? We’re under investigation- well, not us, specifically, but Bruiser is, which means Marion is, which _means_ -“ She looked at him expectantly.

“Which means we’ll eventually be indicted.” He grimaced.

“So- are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’m not a mind reader, so no,” Sam deadpanned.

“We bail.” She explained. “Bruiser popped into the office the other day, said he wanted to take us to lunch tomorrow. On him. I’m thinking he’s either gonna fire us, come clean, or-“

“Pay us off.”

“Paying us off would be his style, getting us hush money before most of the firm’s assets are seized,” Corin nodded. “Here’s what we do- we go back to the firm after coffee, and we grab the cases we’re working on. Don’t touch anyone else’s work, don’t tell anyone else what you’re doing just- pick up what’s yours, and take it home. We go to lunch with Bruiser tomorrow, wine, dine, schmooze-“

“And then take the money and run,” Sam smiled.

“And use it to jumpstart our own firm,” Corin’s grin grew to match Sam’s. “That specializes in providing legal aid to hunters.”

The smile on Sam’s face fell.

“How are we gonna advertise that?” He asked. “You can’t exactly print it on the business cards.”

“It’s nice how you think we’re gonna have business cards,” Corin scrunched her nose. “How does anything get spread around between unattached grifters? _Word of mouth_. And we’ve got the best walking advertisement sitting in holding, downtown, _right_ now.”

“Dean,” Sam breathed, feeling unsure again.

“ _Dean_ ,” She repeated gleefully. “I’ve got pre-trial with Judge Landry in a couple days, it’s a pretty standard motion to dismiss and, frankly, the case should be.”

“So, you’re going to represent my brother- without a license- try and get him off, and then you want to found a law firm that represents hunters?” Sam laid it all out, letting the ridiculousness sink back in.

“We’ll have to keep up our rounds at St. Josephs, from what it sounds like hunters don’t pay very well and we’d have to cover our overhead. You still in that apartment behind the widower’s?” She frowned.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Why?”

“I’m moving in. My apartment over Spanky’s can be our office, it’s cheap, centrally located-“

“My apartment is a one room over a garage,” Sam tried.

“So’s mine,” Corin shrugged. “I’ll sleep on the couch. It’ll be fun, like a sleepover. I’ll work on getting Dean’s charges dropped while you take the personal injury cases, we can cover everything else later.” She stood up, drained the coffee cup and pulled her papers up off the table. “I’ll pay for half, by the way. Of expenses- rent, utilities, water. That stuff.”

“Alright,” Sam nodded, starting to collect his things before looking back to her. “At the firm?”

“And the apartment,” She nodded. “I’m gonna go meet with our first client. Go back to the firm, start on those personal injury cases. _Act natural_.”

She smiled and reached over to squeeze his shoulder before hurrying off, leaving Sam sitting there feeling slightly winded.

Corin started bringing over files and clothes a few days later.


	4. The One where They Found Cooper and Winchester

The lunch with Bruiser came around quicker than Sam expected. Before he knew it, he was sitting around a steakhouse table with Bruiser, Marion, and Corin, listening to polite lunch conversation.

“We really appreciate all the two of you have done,” Marion wheezed. “For the firm. For winning cases,” He smiled at Sam, “And helping us operate on a day to day. You’re both incredibly valuable members of our firm.”

“Which is why we want to offer you two this,” Bruiser leaned forward, digging into his suit jacket and producing two envelopes, handing them off.

Sam had to give Corin credit; her pokerface was probably better than his. He opened his envelope to extract a five thousand dollar check. He looked next to him to see Corin blinking at it before shoving it back into the envelope.

“Those are checks worth five thousand dollars. Representative of your contribution and value to this firm.” Marion wheezed.

“As well as this lunch,” Bruiser smiled. “A small token of our appreciation.”

“We appreciate it,” Corin smiled. “Really. We’ve both had a great time working for the firm.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded in agreement before putting his check back in the envelope. “Yes. Thank you.”

A waiter came over and leaned down to whisper to Marion, who excused himself and walked away. Bruiser watched a moment before turning back to them.

“These are bonuses,” He gestured to the envelopes. “To help ensure that you two will stay with us in the future, as we continue to grow.”

“We look forward to it,” Corin smiled, sipping at her tea as Marion came over to whisper something to Bruiser.

“I have to take this call,” He said as he stood. “Stay as long as you like, the bill’s been taken care of.”

They watched as he walked off with Marion. Corin took a long slurp of tea as they waited for the two of them to walk out of eyeshot before she leaned forward.

“You grab your files?” She whispered.

“Yeah, they’re all at the apartment,” Sam nodded. “We bolt now?”

“We bolt now,” She nodded.

They stood up and, with one last look at the table, they walked out. She smiled at Bruiser and Marion when they passed, saying something about having to go file an injunction. Soon they were sitting in Sam’s blue Subaru, driving towards the bank.

“I’ll file the paperwork for the new firm and open up accounts next week, the two of them should be in the middle of being indicted by the time they notice anything,” She laughed.

“You still good to go on Dean’s case?” Sam asked, pulling through the hedges and into the driveway at Miss Birdie’s, parking beside Corin’s station wagon.

“Ready to meet with him tomorrow and file a motion to dismiss next week,” She nodded. “You ready to be the high-powered Stanford lawyer you always knew you could be?”

“Definitely,” He smirked.

Bruiser and Marion are indicted the next week. They eat PB&J’s and watch the news as the two of them are led out in handcuffs, the contents of the firm carried out in banker’s boxes. Corin laughs and holds her beer up for a toast.


	5. The One where Dean Gets Out of Jail Free

“Robert Plant?”

Dean had been ushered back into the interrogation room and chained back to the table, where he had been waiting, staring listlessly around the room as he whistled to himself. He stopped when the door opened and a young woman strode through, seating herself on the other side of the table. The cop who escorted him still standing in the doorway.

“Seriously?” The cop frowned at her. “You’re representing him now? You even pass the bar?”

“Yes, I am representing Mr. Plant. Mr. Winchester handed his case off to me, and _yes_ , I passed the bar,” She smiled beatifically up at him

“I thought you’d be dead in a ditch by now,” He snorted.

“And I thought you’d have gotten a real job,” Her smile sharpened. “You know, like a big boy. A plumber, or something, since you’re always so fond of showing your ass.”

The cop sputtered, blushing, and she went on,

“This meeting between my client and myself is confidential, Dan. It’s protected by lawyer-client privilege. Which means you need to leave,” She gestured out the door. The cop just shook his head and left, the girl turned to face him. “Mr. Plant,” She said carefully, “I’m-“

“You’re my lawyer, I should tell you what you need to know, you can’t talk to anyone else, yeah,” Dean shrugged. “I’m gonna plead the fifth on this one.”

“Plead the fifth?” She repeated. “The whole way?”

“The whole way,” He smirked.

“Mr. Plant. While I respect the commitment to stonewalling here- lord knows it’s one of _my_ favorite things to do in court- invoking the fifth amendment is _for court_. You still need to speak freely with me so we can coordinate your defense in case we go to trial,” She pulled out a legal pad and pen, setting it by a stack of papers. “My name is Corin Cooper, I’m your representation from Mad- from Cooper and Winchester. I work with Sam Winchester, he’s who handed the case off to me.”

“Sam handed this off to you?” Dean looked slightly incredulous.

“He did,” She nodded.

“And you’re from Cooper and Winchester?” He said skeptically.

“I am.”

“What, Sam got his own firm now?” Dean’s skepticism increased. “I talked to him last week, that was fast.”

“The status of mine and Mr. Winchester’s firm is not up for discussion here, _Dean_ , nor is it the point-“ She stopped to enjoy the surprise on his face before it was filtered away. “The point is the charges the state of Tennessee has brought against you. The desecration of the grave of one Paula Schultz and her corpse, and three charges of breaking and entering. All based on circumstantial evidence. So, by all means, plead the fifth in the court room and be honest with me in here.”

“That cop seemed surprised you passed the bar,” Dean’s gaze shifted towards the door. “You really a lawyer?”

“I know my way around a courtroom. And, more importantly, I know Judge Landry. He was a lawyer up in New York before he lost his retirement in ’08, he moved down here so he wouldn’t have to try RICO cases and because we’re cheap for a capitol city. He’s eighty years old and hates having his time wasted,” She shrugged. “And he absolutely hates our prosecutor, a Ms. Dana Ripley, who also happens to be his ex wife. There were no DNA or complete fingerprints found on any of the crime scenes,” She flipped a page. “No positive ID’s at the B&E’s, so the only thing _really_ working against you is Ms. Shultz. The cops caught you a block from the graveyard, in your car, covered in dirt.”

Dean whistled.

“Impressive. Hey, uh, how much is this gonna cost? Is it still free?”

“Yes, I am still working this case pro bono, how _ever_ , there is one thing we would like you to do for us. In return for the representation.” Corin nodded.

“Then it’s not free,” Dean shrugged.

“It’s… _inexpensive_ ,” She conceded. “In return for representing you and getting these charges dropped, _you_ will send your hunter friends to _us_ for legal representation and advice. In the city of Memphis, anyway.”

That seemed to stun him, the nonchalant air he had evaporating.

“Sammy told you,” He said slowly, taking in Corin’s nod before leaning forward. “So you want to represent me pro bono and get me to send you a bunch of hunters- who you’re not supposed to know about, by the way, and who generally don’t have money- so you can go to court and not make money?”

“Yes, I thought that was all obvious. Can we go over the arresting officer’s report?”

Two weeks later, Dean was walking out of the Shelby County courthouse, rubbing absentmindedly at his wrists as he followed Corin to her car.

“I gotta say, I’m impressed,” He smirked at her before turning to glance back at the courthouse. “That judge really hates his ex.”

“Yes he does,” Corin smiled, unlocking the door to her car before getting in and leaning over to unlock the passenger side door and waiting as Dean stood there. “Get on in, we don’t have all day. I gotta pick Sam up for a personal injury suit and drop him back off here in an hour.”

“Where’s my car?” Dean looked around the lot.

“Still impounded, but I know the guy who manages the lot. He’ll hold it until we call him.” She waved urgently. “Come on, we live fifteen minutes away, and he’s gotta be in court in an hour!”

“What’s wrong with his car?” Dean dropped into the seat, scrambling some to close the door as Corin sped off.

“The engine crapped out yesterday evening, he hasn’t been able to get it looked at yet,” She explained, cutting another car off as she turned out of the lot. “He told me you were handy, maybe you could take a look?”

“I thought you two were fancy lawyers,” Dean snorted. “You can’t take it to a shop?”

“Fancy lawyers with ten grand to their name, eight grand in bills trying to build a business off of clients who don’t pay,” Corin smiled. “You got the time. Miss Birdie has all of her husband’s old tools.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Dean grunted as they took a corner at speed and then turned again onto a dirt drive, bouncing to a stop. He got out as Corin beeped the horn, waving apologies to the upset old lady who walked out on the porch yelling at them to quiet down.


	6. The One where Things Are Normal

Sam burst out of the small apartment above the garage in front of them, pausing when he saw Dean getting out of the car, stepping back so he could take the passenger seat. Corin rolled down her window and leaned out to call to the old lady.

“Miss Birdie! This is Dean!” She pointed to him and he waved. “He’s gonna fix Sam’s car!”

The old lady waved before beckoning him up to the porch, the two of them falling behind a curtain of tall bushes as Corin tore back towards the court house.

“You got him off,” Sam said, looking out the window.

“Told you I would.” Corin smirked. “You better do as good with those injury cases.”

“And the judge never asked you about your license?”

“Nope. Like I said, Landry just wants to get cases off his docket and for Ripley to stop screeching at him,” She shrugged, turning into the traffic circle and sweeping up to the curb. She locked the doors before Sam could get out.

“I gotta be in court in, like, ten minutes,” He turned to give her a look.

“I know, you will be released from holding if you tell me if you’re doing okay,” Corin said.

“I’m doing fine, why?”

“You just saw your brother for the first time in, like, six years because you were appointed to be his defendant,” She looked over to him. “And he’s fun- I mean, stealing Robert Plant’s identity and getting arrested for digging up graves, what a party- but he’s also kind of a dick.”

“Yeah, Dean can be that way,” Sam shrugged before unlocking the passenger door and getting out. “It’s weird, but I’ll end up ok. I swear. I’ll call you when I’m done!”

He turned and hurried up the stairs as Corin sped away. Hours later, she was pulling back up, pushing the passenger door open so Sam could drop back into it with a groan.

“Hard day?” She asked, peeling out.

“I had Ramirez,” He sighed. “And Rindell.”

“The new Rindell?” She frowned.

“Yeah,” He nodded. “Just appointed! Apparently she hates personal injury cases! And ambulance chasing,” He said with a dirty look to Corin, who just grinned.

“She’s gonna love us!”

They pulled into Miss Birdies, parking to see Dean peek around the hood of the Subaru.

“How’d the lawyering go?” He smirked as they walked up. “Get some criminal scumbag off death row?”

“Yeah, filing motions for personal injury cases is _exciting_ ,” Sam rolled his eyes, loosening his tie as he walked past them.

“Samuel! Samuel,” The three of them looked to see Miss Birdie standing at the edge of the porch. “Is this young man really your brother?”

“Uh, yes, Miss Birdie,” He nodded. “He’s my older brother.”

“Well, he is a _delightful_ young man,” She smiled. “He’s fixed my sink, and sharpened the blades on the lawnmower, and now he’s fixing your car! Why didn’t you bring him by sooner?”

“Yeah, Sammy?” He turned to grin at Sam. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“He travels for work a lot,” Sam explained. “Don’t you?”

Dean just shrugged good-naturedly as Sam turned to look questioningly at Corin.

“I was working while you were gone,” She smiled. “I was on the porch, buried in case files so _you_ can go back to court tomorrow and file more motions,” She patted him on the back before passing him and heading up the stairs to the apartment.

“I’m ordering from that Chinese place, for dinner,” She called before the screen door slammed behind her. “And I called the impound lot. You can pick up the impala tomorrow morning!”

That night, the three of them were crammed into Sam’s tiny living room, watching Perry Mason reruns on TV, eating Chinese and drinking beer. Corin was going back and forth between explaining trial procedure to Dean on one side and flipping through files on another. When the episode ended, Dean leaned over to talk to Sam.

“Does this mean you’re back in?” He asked expectantly.

“To hunting?” Sam frowned before shaking his head. “Nah.”

“You two are just gonna lawyer for us.”

“In Memphis,” Corin interjected. “We can’t travel, at least not right now.”

“Gotta say,” Dean pushed himself off the chair, navigating around the boxes of things that Corin had crammed in there. “I’ve seen a lotta weird shit in my day, but a law firm specializing in helping hunters? _That’s_ pretty fucking weird.”

“Believe me,” Sam sighed, “It’s only gonna get weirder.”

Sam didn’t think he would ever be back around hunters again, back around _the life_. Especially _this way_. But when a hunter rolled through town, if they got arrested, Corin would roll in, toss a file on his desk, and smile. _We got another one._ He had four years of practicing law above the garage, accepting payment in bartered services and cash and ambulance chasing. Four years of helping Corin study for the bar (she failed again, and they laughed and drank at Hazelwood's when she did).

He wasn't sure when it started happening, but one day his Rockwood file disappeared, only to reappear across the office. He falls asleep one night to wake up to a dream of someone getting ripped into by a Wendigo that was too lifelike to be anything but real. He reached for a pen that jumped across the desk before his hand touched it.


	7. The One where Sam Doesn't Come Back

Sam practiced law in Memphis, ignoring the dreams, the strange occasions where things would disappear and reappear or move across the room with a thought, the omens. Until one day, he woke up in an old abandoned town that looked like it was straight out of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, with a handful of people he didn’t know who dropped, one by one, like flies.

The Devil was real.

The powers were forced into him with demon blood.

The colt had surfaced again.

He made it to what he assumed was the final round when he blacked out. When he woke up, Dean had made a deal, and he was standing in the parking lot outside their motel, stuck. Between Memphis and the Impala. Cooper and Winchester, and the road. He picked up his phone and dialed.

_“Hey, Sam, where’ve you been? I’ve been worried sick- we need a motion filed on the Weston case- the other one, not the one from last week-“_

“Corin-"

_"And the state prosecutor is trying to block our motion to disclose evidence for Sandell, I can't head him off-"_

"Corin, I can’t.”

_“…What do you mean, you can’t?”_

“I mean I can't. I’m not coming back.”

Sam never expected to be back into hunting, especially not this way. Especially not _for this_. He crosses the country with Dean, in the passengers; seat of the impala again with _The Devil_ of all things bearing down on him. One day, when they're stopped at a fast food joint in Nebraska, he laughs out of nowhere.

"What's so funny?" Dean looks over to him.

"It's just- I got out. I went to school, I passed the bar. I started my own firm," Sam shrugged. "I was a _lawyer_."

"Hey, Cooper and Winchester does some great work. Helped me out," Dean grinned.

"I just... the joke is that lawyers were supposed to be the devil, and now, here I am," Sam gestured to himself. "I'm supposed to be the meatsuit for the _actual_ devil."

"Don't think too hard about it," Dean dismissed the thought. "You'll ruin the irony." After a while he asked, "Corin gonna be okay?"

"She should be," Sam nodded. "She sounds okay whenever I call."

"She pass the bar yet?"

"I don't think she'll ever pass the bar," Sam laughed, Dean echoing him.

"You miss it?" Dean looked over to him.

Sam looked out of the window and thought. Nebraska was flat, a mottle of greens and browns under a steely sky. The opposite of humid, oak-covered Memphis, life on the road immediately, vastly different from life in Miss Birdie's backyard apartment or working out of their office above the garage. Eventually, Sam shrugs again.

"Sometimes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didnt think this would be as long as it was !!

**Author's Note:**

> rainmaker AU even though not everything tracks in terms of, like, legal accuracy but who cares? i'm recycling my oc Corin b/c that's a cool name


End file.
